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footprint poem

os dias endeared a cada MUSE
eu tenho que dizer good-night
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
não permaneça não mais
baixo! ' tis um a noite do gala
quando o vento trabalhar de encontro a nós na obscuridade
eu olhei em cima do céu glorious
travails da terra
a mulher faltou-me muito, como você se chama me, chamada

 



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